Arrange Marriage | JC

Chapter 7: "Beg for it."

"How many times do I have to tell you to keep watering them regularly?" Seungcheol snaps at Stella, who stands quietly with her head lowered, her brunette hair covering her face.

Seungcheol clicks his tongue and tries to calm himself down. He's been snapping at everyone for no reason, or at least for the smallest reasons. Maybe the real issue is a specific person at his house who has been occupying his mind.

"This is the last time I'm telling you this, Ms. Hayes. Please don't forget to water my plants. They are precious to me," he says, and Stella nods. "Sorry, sir," she says in a low voice, and Seungcheol just sighs, rubbing his temple. "Go," he commands, and the lady hurries out.

Seungcheol really needs to calm his nerves and take a break. Ever since he got married, nothing has been going right in his life. The first stroke of bad luck was getting slapped by Jeonghan right on their wedding day, then going home to have one of his important deals canceled, and now this.

"I need to take a break before I actually kill someone," he mumbles, jerking the drawer open and reaching for the white cancer stick placed inside it along with the dragon figurine lighter. It was a gift from his cousin Wonwoo for Christmas, which is why he keeps it close.

Seungcheol lights the cigarette, taking a deep drag, the familiar burn of nicotine offering a fleeting comfort. He leans back in his chair, exhaling a cloud of smoke that swirls lazily towards the ceiling. The soft hiss of the lighter's flame flickering out leaves an echo of silence in the room, intensifying the disquiet in his mind.

The memory of Jeonghan's slap still stings, a sharp reminder of how his life has spiraled out of control. He should have known better than to marry for convenience, but desperation and pride clouded his judgment. Now, he's stuck in a loveless marriage with a man who hates him, and the constant tension is driving him mad.

But that doesn't mean Seungcheol wasn’t thrilled at the thought of Jeonghan breaking and writhing under him. It was part of the reason he agreed to the deal. The image of Jeonghan, all messed up and on his knees in front of Seungcheol, was a sight that fed Seungcheol’s sadistic cravings.

"Let's see how long you can stay strong," he mumbled, the smoke curling out from his plump lips as he tried to close his eyes. Jeonghan was undeniably beautiful—prettier than most of the boys who had warmed Seungcheol’s bed. But the fact that none of them could compare to him was maddening.

Why was Jeonghan crafted so perfectly? It was infuriating. He should have some flaws—no, he must have flaws. Flaws that Seungcheol wanted to drag out and flaunt in his face.

He took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke filling his lungs and calming his nerves. Jeonghan’s defiance was intoxicating, a challenge that Seungcheol was more than willing to accept. He would break him, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but a shattered, beautiful mess.

The loud ringing of his phone jolted Seungcheol from his daydream. He reached for the landline, his hand curling around the device, his rings clinking against the plastic as he brought it to his ear. "Hello," he said in a low, smoke-roughened voice.

"The shipment is trashed."

That single sentence shattered Seungcheol’s composure. He closed his eyes tightly, his fingers crushing the cigarette in his hand as his jaw clenched and teeth ground together. "Where are you?" he barked into the phone, already grabbing his wallet and keys. People needed to learn not to mess with him, and Seungcheol was going to show them why.

"At the port. Come fast." The line went dead.

Seungcheol hurled the phone across the room, hearing it crash against the table before falling to the floor with a loud thud. "Fucking hell!" he shouted, his hands curling into fists. He threw a punch, this time against the wall, creating a dent as a stinging pain seeped into his knuckles.